I Can't
by Writer is Ninja
Summary: Harry-Sirius. I loved him. What would Ron think? I lost him. Only in body. I can feel him watching over me. I'm not insane. This ability is only getting stronger. He whispers in my dreams, now.
1. Lost

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Harry Potter, Harry Potter's Universe, and all things relating in any way to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and various publishing companies that I'm far too lazy to mention. I am making no money, unfortunately. This goes for every chapter.  
  
A/N: There are spoilers for books 1-5. Harry's sixth year. Harry/Sirius slash.  
  
I Can't – Chapter 1, Lost  
  
***  
  
I've been gone from my birthday party a while. Remus has probably sent out a search party to investigate the rest of the house by now. He knows that I'm not stupid enough to leave the protections of Grimmauld Place without a way to protect myself, no matter how much this place reminds me of the childhood that Sirius hated. It reminds me of who Sirius had grown up with. Not this section of the house, though. It was apparently abandoned long ago. Mrs. Black had forbidden anyone entry because of the cheery aura this part of the house radiated. The Order doesn't know whether or not it would be inhabitable, and thus had dared not enter here. Sirius hadn't bothered to correct them in their assumption, much preferring the solitude this place provided. He could just disappear from the world for a while whenever he wanted. This is actually the best part of the house, despite the thick layer of dust covering everything.  
  
Everything looks untouched by time. I especially like the music room. It has to be the most casual of all the rooms in this entire house, besides a bedroom filled with Quidditch posters. There are guitars, pianos, flutes, violins, lyres and all sorts of other instruments. The room with the Quidditch posters had been Sirius's room when he had lived here as a child. God I miss him. Sirius used to bring me up here sometimes. We would sit and talk most of the time, kissing every now and again. We would do more than that, sometimes, but Sirius and I wanted to take things slowly. I wish to Merlin now we hadn't. I think we were both afraid of what people would say about our relationship. I knew that Sirius would get the brunt of it, too. He still bore scars from Azkaban and the last thing Sirius needed was for someone to yell at him that he was disgusting and that he was the same age as my father. That was the last thing I needed, as well. I wouldn't let them take him from me. At least not yet.  
  
At first, at the beginning of my fourth year and the summer before it, I would write both him and Remus in my letters. Sirius was infinitely amused with me calling Remus "Professor Lupin". Eventually I started writing each of them separately. Remus would complain occasionally about Siri's teasing, but we both knew it was good that he was doing anything at all after spending twelve years in Azkaban. Sirius could have sunk deep into depression, and I'm truly surprised that he didn't then. He was kept in Hell for twelve long years and came out fighting on the other side. He didn't talk about Azkaban often. I knew when and when not to push the subject. Some days he needed to be upset and others he needed to pretend like nothing had ever happened at all. I know the feeling.  
  
We didn't just talk about Siri's problems, though. We talked about my life at the Dursley's, mostly, when we talked about me. If you could call what I've lived with a life. I certainly don't think that spending the time up until I received my Hogwarts letter sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, being fed just enough to keep from dieing, and getting the shit beat out of me for things I had no control over – like accidental magic or Vernon's business going downhill for a time – constitutes as a life. I have no reason to complain, though. I was much better off than some Muggle friends of mine. The only friends I ever had before Hogwarts were street urchins. They learned quickly that I could hold my own when it came to hand – to – hand combat or knife fighting, and that earned me respect, at least, on the streets.  
  
Dudley and his gang always scared away any friends I could have possibly made at school, though. Except for this one girl. She had mousey brown hair and was a year younger than me. We would talk about mythology and books we had read. Yes, I was a regular Hermione in my old school; burying my head in books. Of course, I was reading for a different reason than 'Mione does. I was trying to escape my little cupboard under the stairs. Anyway, for a short time I had a friend. A few weeks before she moved, my friend started going all misty eyed and would let her mind drift. She told me that she was moving because her mother had died and her father couldn't stand to be there anymore. This person sounding familiar yet? Yes; Luna Lovegood was my best friend and I've probably written more about her personal life than this journal wants to hear from me in an entire lifetime. I just keep yapping on and on and avoiding the point, though, don't I? I'll end up rambling on in this sense for a while, I imagine, so there's no need to continue reading if you don't want to. Have I gone spare now? Writing to my journal as if someone is reading it. Bloody Hell, I'm even talking to myself. But back to the subject. I need to tell someone this and I don't think that anyone else will understand.  
  
Sirius always knew where to pry to get me to tell him what was on my mind. He knew what to say when and how to say it. I loved him and hated him for that. Sirius could calm me when I wanted to be angry, make me laugh when I wanted to cry, and keep me around people when all I feel like doing is pushing them away. He may have soothed my anger and pain even when I didn't want him to, but Siri never forced me to love him. He could never force me to love him, because I already did.  
  
I still love you, Siri, with all my heart. I can feel your presence here with me again. It's a different feeling from when I look back around a corner and expect to see you there, smiling at me with that roguish grin of yours. I can actually feel you now. It's a nice, warm feeling. Won't you please lay with me? I just want to feel your chin resting on my head again, your arms wrapped around me. Remus or someone from the search party is bound to check here soon and I'd like to cry one last time before I get truly involved in this war. I haven't cried since your death, and before that when I was four years old. There won't be time for tears again until after this is over. I'll end this war. . .one way or another. I just want to cry for all the wrong done and that will be done. I want to cry for the world, and I'd like you to be here to hold me. I love you, Sirius Black, forever. It would be a shame to burn something like this, even though we discussed that if I ever wrote anything about our relationship it would have to be gotten rid of. I just can't toss something this precious to me – my writings about you – to burn. I'm sorry, but I just can't do it. I can bury the journal, the memories it holds, but I won't burn it. I love you, Siri.  
  
Always and forever,  
Harry.  
  
Harry lay down on the bed, then, silent tears streaming down his face. He could feel warm, comfortable, familiar arms wrap around him from behind and the equally familiar weight of a chin on top of his head. Harry snuggled into a more comfortable position and whispered to the comforting presence in a choked voice, "Thank you, Siri love."  
  
He cried for about an hour before falling to sleep. 


	2. Found

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Harry Potter, Harry Potter's Universe, and all things relating in any way to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and various publishing companies that I'm far too lazy to mention. I am making no money, unfortunately. This goes for every chapter.  
  
A/N: This fic might end up being long. This isn't the sixth year fic I was talking about in my profile, by the way. This fic was just something that popped into my head for some odd reason. I was reading a Remus/Sirius fic, and I was thinking, "You see Harry/Severus fics all over FF.net. Why not a few Harry/Sirius fics?" So, just to get my brain to shut up, I wrote one myself. I'm going to have one very large headache by the time Christmas at my house is halfway through. Happy holidays!  
  
THERE! I SAID SOMETHING CHEERY! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, LILY?  
  
-You don't have to yell, you know.  
  
I name my personalities (muses, whatever you want to call them). Lily is the cheery one. She's seen less often. I'm sure you'll meet more of them later on, but it's four a.m. and I haven't gone to bet yet. Goodnight, good morning; I don't care I'm going to bed after this.  
  
I Can't - Chapter 2, Found  
***  
  
It was half an hour later that Harry awoke. A small, sad smile graced his face as he sat up. Siri's presence was gone from the room - Harry could sense it when Sirius was there - but he hadn't failed to comfort Harry a bit. Sirius would always be there if Harry needed him, even through death. It was still sad knowing that Sirius was dead, even if he truly would always be there. He stood to go to the loo, picking up the journal and placing it absentmindedly on the side table by the door on his way. The room had a loo of it's own. Harry stared at himself in the mirror for a few minutes before wetting a washcloth and pressing it to his face. Deciding that this wasn't enough, Harry turned the cold tap up to full blast and dunked his head under. This was much better. So many things had been swirling through Harry's mind that he had a pounding headache. The cold water had dulled it to a warm throbbing.  
  
Turning off the tap, Harry didn't even bother to dry his hair with a towel before returning to the bedroom. He usually always dried his hair, but didn't figure it would much matter. His hair was much longer now, anyway (it fell to his mid-back), and would be more tameable.  
  
"So this is where you're hiding, Potter," came the scathing voice of Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts.  
  
"I was trying to get away from all the noise down there, actually. I'm sure you understand the need for quiet and privacy all too well."  
  
"Starting to think you're too good for your own friends now, Potter? Can't be bothered to tell them where you're going?"  
  
"I don't see fit to inform everyone of my every move, if that's what you're asking. I wanted privacy, not a body guard. Now, if you'll please excuse me, Professor Snape, I feel the need to be in any room that doesn't have people in it."  
  
Harry walked quite coolly out of the room, picking up his journal on the way. He weaved through rooms and had made it through the hallway when Snape finally caught up with him. Harry walked through the door and ploughed straight through a group of startled Weasleys and other friends on the staircase. They turned to follow him when he headed towards his and Ron's room.  
  
"What the bloody Hell is that you grabbed off the table, boy?" asked Snape, making everyone turn to look at him. "Accio!"  
  
The journal flew through Harry's hands as he turned to tell Snape that it was none of his business. He tried to catch it in the air, but it was a futile effort. Snape caught it and said,  
  
"A diary, Potter? Well, why don't we just find out all those juicy little secrets of yours?"  
  
"You go ahead and do that, Snape. Enjoy yourself," he said, entering the bedroom and slamming the door behind him.  
  
"I've been gone from my birthday party for a while," Snape started loudly. "Remus has probably sent out a search party. . ."  
  
A while later Snape ended the entry. "'I can bury the journal, but I won't burn memories. I love you, Siri. Always and forever, Harry.'"  
  
Ron slammed through the door into the room, rage evident. Harry did not acknowledge him in any way. Harry simply continued to do whatever he was doing crouched on the floor with his back turned to Ron, which only made Ron even more furious.  
  
"So I've been sleeping in the same room as a bloody faggot for years?! That didn't seem important enough for you to tell me, Harry?!"  
  
"Actually, I'm bisexual. It means I like both sexes."  
  
"I know what it means! So you're greedy when it comes to who you like, as well!"  
  
Harry, instead of dignifying Ron with a response, stood up, slamming down the lid of his trunk. He then turned his attentions towards Hermione. He faced her, smiled weakly, and shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Sorry for not telling you, 'Mione. I know that certain religions are against that sort of thing. Didn't want to lose your friendship if you were against it."  
  
"You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked, nodding to his trunk.  
  
"For a while, at least. I can't say when I'll owl you," he said, dragging his trunk and Hedwig's cage next to the front door. Everyone watched as he did this.  
  
"Be sure to owl me as soon as you settle down somewhere. I wish you'd stay, but I don't see how we can stop you."  
  
"You can't." He opened the door. "Oh, and Professor Snape? If you bothered to look at the letter I sent you earlier this summer before throwing it away, it was an apology for invading your privacy. No one forced me to write that letter. No one else even knew of it. You have made it abundantly clear, however, that I will never be forgiven of my father's mistakes. I am Harry James Potter, not James Edward Potter. I only started hating you when given reason to. Goodbye everyone. Accio journal."  
  
He walked out the door without looking back, journal in hand. Harry's feet would carry him where he wished to go. He would end up hearing the sound of gravel crunching under his feet, and would later find himself climbing up through the basement of a boarded up old building off an alleyway. For now, however, Harry only heard one thing and it would later amuse him to no end.  
  
"Let me through," Remus growled out. "I'll stupefy him."  
  
*** 


	3. Blind

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Harry Potter, Harry Potter's Universe, and all things relating in any way to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and various publishing companies that I'm far too lazy to mention. I am making no money, unfortunately. This goes for every chapter.  
  
A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks to those of you who reviewed the first two chapters. Of course I'll read your HP fics, xMadgirlx. Just give me some time. There are a lot of fics I'm trying to read right now. Thank you also, tomzgurl77. I don't know whether or not you'll like this chapter, but it doesn't matter. I write these fan fics for myself. I know that may seem selfish. If I wrote for my reviewers, though, I'd be extremely disappointed if I got a bad review. I'd also never finish a fic. I want to say thank you to the reviewers of Dancing With Molly, Monsters, and Harry's Journal: Beginning to End, as well. It's sort of funny, if you think about it. I can't write a journal of my own but I can write a fictional person's. This chapter probably won't be too sad, by the way.  
  
~Hey, Maya?  
  
What is it, Hawk?  
  
~Will I be in this fic?  
  
Maybe. Can I start the third chapter now?  
  
~Lily wants to say something.  
  
What, Lily?  
  
-What about me? Will I be in this fic?  
  
I hope not. You're too cheery. On to chapter three, now.  
  
I Can't - Chapter 3, Blind  
  
***  
  
Severus Snape slid down against the wall, head in hands. This is all my fault, he thought to himself.  
  
"Oh good Lord. What the Hell have I just done?"  
  
Everyone seemed to snap out of their musings at that. Severus thumped his head back against the wall a few times, drowning out the noise of the others. This did not, however, drown out his thoughts. He vaguely registered Remus helping him stand and leading him towards the kitchen, talking to someone about getting Dumbledore. Severus, still in a daze, was helped into a chair by someone. He only looked up when shouting permeated his thoughts.  
  
" - NOT BELIEVE YOU RONALD WEASLEY!"  
  
Hermione Granger roared with fury. She was possibly one of the best students Severus had ever taught, he would admit grudgingly on occasion. Granger was one of the most calm, study minded, and collected people that Severus had ever met. Therefore, it was of great surprise to him - and to everyone else, for that matter - that she would blow her top like that. Her voice became softer, suddenly.  
  
"Why should it matter at all that Harry likes both women and men so long as he's happy?"  
  
"He's a bloody fag, Hermione! Don't tell me you're taking his side on this!"  
  
"I'm afraid that I am taking Harry's side. You're prejudices are going to lose you two friends today, Ron. I'm going to follow his example as well. I'm going to pack my things and walk out that door, and none of you will be able to stop me."  
  
Three minutes later Hermione was ready to go and in the kitchen. She hugged Ginny, Tonks, Remus, Molly, and Arthur briefly, patted Mad-eye fondly on the shoulder, glared at young Mr. Weasley, and turned to leave some of her only friends behind for who knows how long for another friend.  
  
"Miss Granger?" He sounded so filled with guilt that she turned back. Even he could tell how pitiful he sounded. "If you find him," Severus said. He cleared his throat. "If you find Potter, give him this from me. You never know when it could be useful."  
  
He pulled out a beautiful set of blue rosary beads on a silver chain from underneath his robes. Slowly, oh so slowly, Severus brought the rosary up above his head and handed it to the girl. "Give Potter my sincerest apologies," he said solemnly, and she nodded.  
  
Without a glance back, Hermione Granger left the only friends she had ever known. She was going to help another friend. It didn't take long to find him, either; ten minutes later she was walking silently alongside Harry, trunk under her arm. Neither said anything for a while. Hermione was going to say something just to break the silence when Harry spoke.  
  
"I should call the Knight Bus. I want to take everything out of my account."  
  
"Where are we going after you do that?"  
  
"You really mean to come with me? I appreciate it and everything, but are you sure? You can still go back."  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"You'd be giving up your entire life here, Hermione; changing how you look, your name, where you live. I'm giving you the chance to go back. I won't try and change your mind if it's made up, but I don't want you to give up everything for a friendship with me."  
  
"My mind is made up. I'm coming with you. You're a friend and I'm not letting you do this alone."  
  
"Let me grab your trunk for you, then, since you're coming."  
  
Harry did so, despite Hermione's protests of being able to handle it fine and that just because she was a woman didn't mean she was weak.  
  
"I never said you were, 'Mione. I have some very strong women friends, you included. I wouldn't dare think of you as weak with all those books you carry around. Where is Crookshanks, by the way? Aren't you bringing him?"  
  
"No. I love Crookshanks to death, but he's not travel friendly. How will Hedwig find you?"  
  
"She always knows where I am. Hedwig'll find me."  
  
Harry shot out his wand arm and with a deafening BANG the triple- decker, vibrantly purple Knight Bus shot up. A streetlamp jumped back out of the way. Harry pulled Hermione just in time not to be road kill. Harry seemed to have been expecting something of the sort, for he wasn't fazed at all, but Hermione was frightened nearly to death. She didn't have much time to allow the shock to set in, however, because an older boy with pimples all over his face came out and started to introduce himself at that moment.  
  
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor -"  
  
He cut himself off when he saw Harry.  
  
"Oi! 'Arry Potter! Been a while, 'asn't it? 'Oo would this friend 'a yers be, eh? Got yerself a lady friend, now, 'ave yeh?"  
  
"Good to see you as well, Stan. This is my best friend, Hermione. There's nothing more than friendship going on between the two of us, so you can drop that sort of thought right now. Can you help me get these things onto the bus, Stan? We need to go to Diagon Alley."  
  
They were off to Gringotts in a no time at all, and were now back in London. Hermione hadn't forgotten the rosary from Professor Snape and had given it to Harry on the way there. He hadn't been willing to take any chances of someone finding out they had been on the Knight Bus, and had Obliviated (concentrating on the bus ride to Diagon Alley and back) Stan and Ernie. Hermione didn't care about that, really, but was a bit curious as to why they were back in London, in all honesty.  
  
"Why are we coming back here?" she asked.  
  
"Not only will they expect us to have gone as far away from London as possible, but I have some friends around here."  
  
Harry twisted through dark alleyways, seeming to know them well, with Hermione hot on his heels. When she enquired about his knowledge of the alleys, Harry had replied that the Dursleys had left him in London to find his way home quite a few times when he was younger. She hadn't asked any more about it. Hermione was jolted from her musings when Harry stopped at an old but well cared for building and knocked on the door.  
  
"Who is it?" a woman asked through the door.  
  
"It's Harry and a friend. Open up.  
  
"How do I know it's you? Say something only you would know."  
  
"Jack Daniel's '90."  
  
A woman who could be no older than her mid twenties opened the door, smiling. She pulled Harry into a quick hug, let go, and then ushered them both in. Her short brown hair was pulled into a messy bun and her welcoming dark blue eyes sparkled in delight at the prospect of company. After introductions were all said and done and everyone was seated in the living room, Harry cut directly to the point of the visit.  
  
"We need fake passports and I was wondering if you could undo the tracking spells on our wands."  
  
"No problem. What names do you want on the passports?"  
  
"James Michael Walsh. You, Hermione?"  
  
"Annabelle Marie Davis."  
  
"Each of you take a room upstairs, then. Eddie and Gabby are sleeping already, so try to be as quiet as possible. Leave your wands down here and I'll be done by morning. Don't wake me up if I'm in bed tomorrow. Just leave a note on the kitchen table. You know where everything is, Harry. You can show Hermione. The pictures in the passports will change to your appearance, by the way, so if you use Concealing Charms you won't have to change the picture manually."  
  
"'Night Liz, 'Mione."  
  
"Goodnight Harry, Hermione."  
  
"'Night Elizabeth, Harry."  
  
Hermione didn't ask how Harry knew a witch from when he was young, nor why Elizabeth was so straightforward. She was too tired at that time and, frankly, didn't really care by then. It had been a long day. Questions would have to wait until tomorrow.  
  
***  
  
I named this chapter 'Blind' because it's showing part of Harry's life that we are normally blind to. He has other friends that no one knows about and his very own *theatrical gasp* secrets. I'll explain Elizabeth in the next chapter and you'll meet Gabby and Eddie. Wondering why Molly didn't yell at Ron? She was still in shock at that point. I'll explain the general Wizarding POV on gays and bisexuals later. No; this is absolutely NOT a Harry/Hermione fic, nor will it ever become one. In case you haven't noticed, I've been pushing the whole friends only idea. Hermione is just a good friend doing what she thinks is right. I know that Harry's response to Hermione coming might have sounded sappy, but he really doesn't want his friends doing something they aren't sure of just for him. You didn't expect Hermione to go after Harry, though, did you? Was it a shock? I've seen too many fics where Harry runs away and never talks to any of his friends again unless he comes back, that I just couldn't make this another one. Harry needs his friends most right now, and I wasn't going to let him go through everything alone.  
  
Notice something: Harry walks away without looking back. What does this mean? Harry is ready to try and forget the bad aspects of his past. He wants to move on and leave everything he's ever known behind for a better life.  
  
Hermione isn't going to turn back after saying goodbye, but does. What does this mean? Hermione is confident in her decision to support Harry when others are turning their backs on him. However, she isn't necessarily so ready to leave everyone and everything behind as Harry is.  
  
Just explaining my reasoning.  
  
~ BipolarGirl, Maya M. Wallace 


End file.
